First Encounter
by scarlet79
Summary: When her father is taken from their village, 13-year-old Teyla Emmagen must assume the role as leader of her people. What secrets will she learn, and what will become of her people when a group of strangers comes to the village looking for help?
1. Chapter 1

_AN: Hey, guys! I know it's been a while again. :( I had a job for a while that kept me busy, but unfortunately it didn't work out. Anyway, I'm back! YAY! _

_This idea has actually been rolling around in my head for a long time, but I've had a hard time finding the opportunity to put it down to paper, and then to PC. It just so happened that the sga_beya site had a challenge about the first season, and it sparked the memory of this story. If I ever end up linking this story to beya, here's a SHOUT OUT to my peeps over there! Much love you you all! :)_

_Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Title: First Encounter

Author: scarletraven79

Type: StoryFic/Missing Scenes

Summary: When her father is taken from their village, 13-year-old Teyla Emmagan must assume the role as leader of her people. What secrets will she learn, and what will become of her people when a group of strangers comes to the village looking for help?

Spoilers: Um, Season 1, I guess.

Rating: K+ for now, though that may change...

* * *

Chapter One

Teyla Emmagan glanced around the large, round hide-covered tent, her dark eyes searching the many faces that surrounded her. Tiny beads of sweat prickled on her neck and back, though they had little to do with the warmth of the structure. Trying desperately to still the fluttering in her stomach, Teyla took a slow breath and then let it out just as slowly.

She was just thirteen years old, too young for the responsibility that would be laid on her shoulders in a matter of moments. There was still much about being a teenager that she wished to discover, things she wanted to learn about herself and others her same age. But circumstances, terrible ones, had intervened and set her here, in the midst of her people.

Teyla gazed at the tall man at her left, noting the sadness in his blue eyes as well as the pride he carried for her. She inclined her head slightly in a nod, and he reciprocated, the lips behind his full beard twitching in a small smile. At her right hand stood a much older woman, with kind eyes and silver-white hair. Before Teyla could utter a word, the woman grasped Teyla's hand in her arthritic one, squeezing it as tightly as she could in reassurance.

"It is time, Teyla," the woman murmured then, giving a single nod toward the opening of the tent. The flaps parted, allowing another villager to enter, and Teyla's heart ratcheted up a notch as he stepped toward her. In his arms he carried her father's cloak, the symbol of his leadership, and when he held it out, Teyla could scarcely catch her breath. There was the last piece of her father, her final physical tie to him. Taken by the Wraith in the last culling, he had been the only other surviving Emmagan, and now Teyla was the very last. Beside her memories of him, the cloak in her clansman's arms would be the only thing she could look to for remembrance, the only item she could clutch in her hands when she missed him at night.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and again she looked to the tall man.

"Halling. I do not think I can..."

The man shook his head. "You can, and you must. I know how great your sadness is at this moment, but you are our leader now."

"But," she began, but he interrupted again.

"You will do well, Teyla. We all have great confidence in you."

Once more, her gaze turned to the people crowded into the tent. Their faces held so many emotions – hope, fear of the Wraith, happiness at having a new leader, young though she was – and all waited patiently for the ceremony to begin. These were Athosians, a proud and noble people.

Her people.

They were truly hers now, to guide through the years just as her parents had done. She allowed herself to dwell on thoughts of her mother first. She had been a fair and patient leader, her exceptional sense of humor giving her a ready supply of witty remarks. She was a better negotiator than her husband – Teyla's father – and though she held such great office, she often stepped down to perform a midwife's duty, or assist in the harvest when there was a shortage of laborers.

She had been so loved by all in the village that when she became ill and died, it shocked some so greatly that their hearts fell weak, and two of the eldest villagers died soon after her. Teyla was only six years old then, but she could still clearly recall the funeral ceremony, as well as how bitterly her father wept at night when he supposed Teyla was fast asleep. She had thought, at the time, that her father might never recover from the loss, but he had proved to be stronger than his grief. As time went on and turned into years, he found it easier to speak her mother's name without even so much as a hitch in his deep voice.

And speaking of her father...

He was quite tall, his dark hair curled close to his head. His muscular arms were ever ready to wrap around his little Teyla, and he was never afraid to lay a gentle kiss on her sun-warmed hair. Still, he would not hesitate to give her a reproof if it was necessary, and since she had been quite adventurous, it usually was. It was plain that he loved his people, both in the way he dealt with those in the village and in his respect of their customs and traditions. He could sing slightly better than most, and it was he who taught Teyla the songs about the Athosians history, of their greatest battles won and hardest lost.

He was also a wonderful storyteller, and would entertain the young ones in the camp with his tales late into the night, their eager faces fixed upon him, daring hardly to breathe lest they miss a single word. Teyla had only recently become "too old" for these sessions, but she still found herself stopping whatever she had been busy with to listen, her heart thrilling with each word. She always went back to her chore again when his eyes turned toward her, but she knew that he caught her watching each time.

Her heart squeezed again as she recalled those memories. Her father had only been gone a few weeks, but she knew deep inside that he was gone forever. The Wraith never returned those they took, and neither did any escape their clutches. This thought brought a hardness to her insides, just as she knew it did the rest of her people. No matter how many times the Wraith came to attack, the Athosians refused to lose hope, to turn away from their faith in the Ancestors. Despite all the loved ones who had been taken, those who remained would never simply lay down and allow themselves to be culled. They would fight as hard and as long as they needed to.

Suddenly resolved, Teyla nodded sharply.

"Thank you, Halling. And you as well, Charin. You have been great help to both of my parents before me. I would be honored if you would do so as well with me."

The old woman chuckled and patted her hand. "I would never dream of leaving you on your own, dear."

"Nor I," Halling agreed.

With a shared smile over Teyla's head, they stepped forward and took hold of the cloak. Each grasped a corner, holding it open so that its length nearly brushed the ground.

"Today," Halling's voice boomed throughout the tent, "we mourn the loss of our great leader, Torren Emmagan, son of Kaleth, husband to our beloved Turghan, father of Teyla and Raya."

Teyla's eyes immediately snapped to Halling's face. For as long as she had been alive, she had been an only child. Neither of her parents had spoken of a sibling. Who was this Raya, then? Perhaps Halling had simply gotten confused, she mused, but when she looked into his eyes, she saw that was not the case. Though she was beyond curious, Teyla pushed it away and focused on the ceremony. She would speak with Halling later.

"His memory and leadership will live on in our hearts for eternity. And though we are saddened by his death, we can rejoice in the fact that he is now with the Ancestors, and we can welcome our new leader, his daughter Teyla."

The crowd cheered and clapped as Halling and Charin wrapped the cloak around her shoulders, then clasped it at her throat. Charin pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek, then leaned toward her ear and murmured, "Smile, my dear. This is a good and happy thing."

Teyla nodded and grinned for Charin's benefit, though her insides felt ready to burst. It was all so sudden, this change. Her father had not been gone very long. She had not mourned his death enough, and yet now she was taking on his role, expected to lead his people – _their_ people, she corrected – in his place.

Halling took his turn congratulating her, his head bowed as he touched his forehead to her own, his blue eyes closed.

"Your father would be proud," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I wish he could see this day, see you standing here."

"As do I. I miss him very much." If anyone would understand her fear, her sorrow, it would be Halling.

"I know," he replied. "But I also know he would be pleased to see you take his place. Take comfort in the knowledge that he is no longer suffering."

Teyla nodded for what seemed the thousandth time. "I do," she whispered, unable to make herself speak at normal volume over the pain in her heart. "Thank you."

He resumed his place at her side, and after a long moment to compose herself, Teyla again turned to the throng of villagers.

"I thank you all for your confidence in me, and I promise to lead wisely from this day forward." They were empty words, spoken through custom by each new leader. She was only thirteen; just what did everyone expect from her? Did they really think someone so young could make such important decisions as which crops to plant, or where to put them? Did they think she could negotiate trades with other planets, or create treaties with them?

"Now," she continued, once more feeling the nervous flutter return to her stomach, "to seal my acceptance of this new role, I will sing the history of our people, as my father did, and my mother before him."

There was a brief silence, and then a lilting soprano began, at first quiet and a little shaky but quickly growing in volume. After a moment, it filled the entire building, singing confidently in the Athosian tongue. The voice sounded as if it should have come from a much older person, a professional singer rather than the slightly bony frame of a girl that stood before them. However, no one could deny that it was certainly Teyla singing; they could see and hear the breaths she took between stanzas, and more than once her own accent came through as she pronounced certain words.

As Teyla sang, Charin's eyes filled with tears. She could still recall how Teyla's mother, Turghan, had stood in this very place and sang the same song. Turghan's voice had been strong, like Teyla's, but unlike her daughter, she tended to waver on the higher notes. Clearly, Teyla had been born to sing, a rare thing among a people who tended to be farmers or metal workers, depending on the earth for their living.

Despite all Teyla's protest, Charin also knew that the young woman was born to lead. Her quiet grace was unmatched among the Athosians, and her logic and tact allowed her to solve issues that would befuddle most others. She could negotiate just as well as either of her parents had, getting a fair price for a trade, and had more than once stopped two young people from coming to blows in a disagreement. Though she was still young herself, Teyla tried to understand each age group's particular problems. She jiggled babies on her hip and kept toddlers away from the water's edge, invented games for the older children and taught them how to hunt and track. But she also helped mothers cook meals and repair the men's bows, while still finding time to spend with the elders, listening to their stories of the past and vowing to learn from their mistakes.

Yes, Charin thought as she wiped the tears from her eyes, Teyla would make a wonderful leader.

At last, the song ended, and the Athosians shouted their enthusiasm. When their noise had died down once more, Charin said, "My fellow Athosians, sons and daughters of the Ancestors, today we welcome Teyla Emmagen as our leader. In peace or in battle, in times of plenty or in drought, she will carry the burden of our safety and survival. Our responsibility is to help with that burden as much as possible. A wise man once told me that a leader can only exist if there is someone to be led. Let us lift Teyla up together, to help her be the woman we need."

The crowd cheered even more loudly than before, and Teyla had to fight the urge to clap her hands over her ears. Halling looked over at her and smiled proudly.

He had known all along that the people would embrace Teyla as their leader.

* * *

_TBC..._


	2. Chapter 2

Title: First Encounter

Author: scarletraven79

Summary: When her father is taken from their village, 13-year-old Teyla Emmagen must assume the role as leader of her people. What secrets will she learn, and what will become of her people when a group of strangers comes to the village looking for help?

* * *

Chapter Two

Later, after the crowd had dispersed, Teyla and Halling sat outside by the cool stream that ran through the village. He sat cross-legged on a large, flat rock, while Teyla dangled her slender feet in the rushing water, sighing as the cold liquid poured over her skin. She sighed again as she recalled the events from earlier that day, and then said, "Halling."

He glanced over at her. "Yes?"

"Who is Raya?"

Halling was quiet for so long that she considered asking again. Finally, he gave a heavy sigh.

"Raya was your parents' firstborn."

"Was?" Teyla asked, her mouth suddenly dry. "You mean..."

"Yes," Halling interrupted quickly. "She is dead."

"How?" A sudden thought came to her then. "Did the Wraith...?"

He shook his head. "No. She became ill very suddenly, on her third birth day. She held on to life for seven months before finally passing on to the Ancestors." He smile humorlessly at the memory of the little girl. "She was quite stubborn, even for such a young one."

"Why has no one told me of her before? My mother..."

"Your parents were dealt a hard blow by your sister's death. They found it very difficult to even speak her name aloud."

"But she was my sister!" Teyla cried, pulling her feet up out of the water. The cold no longer felt comforting, instead reminding her of winter, when all of nature died. "I had a right to know about her!"

"And does knowing now of her help you?" Halling asked.

"That is not the point."

"Then tell me what is."

"My parents lied to me. They treated me as their only daughter, when clearly I was not!"

By now she was pacing, stepping from one large boulder to another and then back again. Her chest felt tight and heavy, as if it were filled with hot metal.

"Teyla," Halling quietly called. "Sit down."

She shook her head. "How much longer would their secret have been kept, if my father had not been taken? Would he ever have told me?" She glared at him. "Would you?"

"Sit down, please," he tried again, but her anger burned so that she barely heard him.

"And Charin; I cannot believe she would keep something like this from me all these years. She has been like a mother to me! Why would she do this?"

"Because," Charin's voice sounded from behind them, "I loved Raya like she was my own, as well. When she passed, it broke my heart as much as it did Turghan's."

Teyla turned around then, and saw the hard look in the old woman's eyes.

"Charin," she began, but Charin shook her head and pointed at the empty space in front of Halling.

"Sit down, girl."

Obediently, Teyla dropped down onto Halling's rock, as Charin stepped closer.

"Your father wanted to tell you about Raya after your mother's death, but I warned him against it."

"Why?"

"It would have been too much for you then. You had been so close to your mother, and took her death very hard. To add any more loss to that, even of someone you had never known, would have done more hurt than good."

She sighed and carefully lowered herself to the rocky bank of the stream, gazing into Teyla's eyes.

"Torren saw much of Raya in you, especially when you were very small. He had feared that when you turned three, you might become ill as well. He was very afraid that he would lose you – it was one reason he spent so much time with you, more than most fathers do. He wanted to be near you in case anything should happen.

"He always knew that one day you would need to learn of your sister, but he was afraid that you would be angry with him for not telling you sooner."

"He was correct about that," Teyla muttered, running her hand through her long, auburn hair.

Charin frowned at her. "Grudges do not become a leader, Teyla. Especially against someone no longer living."

The young woman had the grace to duck her head and at least pretend to feel badly for her comment.

"I know you are upset – that is natural – but you must think before you act, or even speak. If you are to take your father's place, you must control your emotions. Try to put yourself in your parents' place. They lost a child. True, not by the Wraith's hand, but by disease, which can be just as cruel if not more so. She suffered for months, and all the while they were helpless to do anything but stand by and watch. Many times, Torren came to me and begged me to make a potion to end her misery, but I was so consumed by the hope that she would recover, and the fear of losing her, that I refused.

"In the end, she succumbed to the illness, and your mother nearly drowned in her grief. If she had not had your father beside her, she would not have been able to go on."

"She always seemed so strong to me," Teyla whispered, and now Halling nodded.

"She had to. She could not show weakness to anyone, as long as she was leader."

The three of them sat in silence for a long while, and then, quietly, Teyla said, "I am sorry, Halling. I did not understand."

"You are forgiven, of course," he replied. "I know you were only upset."

"And I am sorry for my anger toward you, Charin. I should not have questioned your reason for keeping Raya a secret."

"Well, perhaps you had a point there, my darling," Charin said with a rueful grin. "I have been a little selfish in keeping her memory for myself. And for that, I apologize."

Teyla smiled back. "You are forgiven."

"Thank you. Now, it is very late, and we have all had a long day. We should get some rest."

"That is a wonderful idea," Halling replied, standing up and then reaching down to help Charin.

"I have one more question, if that is all right?" Teyla asked them.

"Go on," Halling replied.

"What did my parents do with her body, after...did they bury her?"

"Yes, they did. They could not bear a funeral pyre, as is tradition, so they buried her instead."

"Where is she? I wish to see her grave."

Halling hesitated, but Charin spoke up instead. "The highest hill at the edge of the settlement, by the ocean. There is a tree with four branching arms there; her grave is at its foot. She loved playing at the beach, watching the waves roll in, so your father thought it fitting that she be put somewhere she could forever look out over the water."

"Thank you," Teyla replied, tears pricking her eyelids. "Both of you."

"You are welcome," Halling told her. "Now, go and get some sleep."

"I will. Good night."

Both adults called back "Good night," and then made their way toward the circle of tents, but Teyla lingered by the stream a while longer after they had gone. The rocks were still warm from the day's hot sun, so she lay down across them, her head resting on her crossed arms. Closing her eyes, she listened to the babble of the water as it coursed along its banks, letting the sound soothe her. The night air was pleasant on her skin, cool enough to keep her from sweating, but warm enough that she was comfortable just where she lay. Thoughts tumbled through her young mind, but she buried all of them except for one – _I had a sister._

_Raya._

She tried to imagine what her sister had looked like; if her eyes had been dark like Teyla's or light like their father's, what color her hair had been, if Raya had been chubby as a baby just like she had been herself. She spent so much time thinking about Raya that she did not even realize it when she fell asleep, stretched out on the rocks with the starry sky watching over her.

* * *

The grave was just where Charin had said, a simple small marker laid against the base of a large, gnarled tree, some of its roots beginning to grow over the stone's rounded edges. The forest behind the tree was full of birdsong, the creatures all having risen much earlier to warm themselves in the sunshine that had moved directly overhead. Green leaves dripped the last of their morning dew onto the moist earth, collecting in small puddles for the ground-dwellers to lap up as they passed.

Teyla dropped to her knees beside the grave, her slender hand resting on the stone. She turned her face toward the ocean beyond the cliff side, smelling the salt of the water and feeling the soft breeze blowing through her hair. There was so much she wanted to say to this other little girl, to the sister she had never known, but there were not words powerful enough to describe all she held in her heart. Raya would have been sixteen now, and if she had lived, the burden of leadership would have gone to her. Teyla could not help but feel a little resentment for that, for being left behind to deal with so much on her own.

Well, to be fair, she was not all alone. She had Halling and Charin, and the rest of the villagers were willing to help with anything as well. But Teyla was the last Emmagan, the last of their father's bloodline. If she married and took her husband's name, the Emmagan name would be no more. Lost to history, just like many others before. The thought angered Teyla like nothing else. Her father had been a great man; he did not deserve a fate such as that.

"Hello, Raya," Teyla softly began, her eyes still on the ocean. "I am Teyla, your sister. I never had the chance to meet you, but I wanted to tell you that I will never forget you. I wish you had lived to grow up; we would have had much fun together."

Teyla thought of all the times she and Raya could have played with her dolls, of Raya teaching her to braid her hair rather than her mother, and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She wiped them away in frustration. Oh, why had the Ancestors made her such an emotional child? She was leader of the Athosians; it would not do for someone in such a position to cry at every small thought or harsh word. She had to be strong, like her parents had been.

"I am sorry that I did not know of you sooner," she continued. "If I had, I would have come to visit you more often, maybe even every day."

She laid down beside the grave, the warm earth clinging to her cheek as she pressed it to the ground. Closing her eyes, she whispered the story of her life into the still air, hoping by some chance that Raya could hear her. She told of their parents, of the Athosians' struggle with the Wraith, about Halling and Charin and the rest of the people she had become close to. She spoke so long that her body began to feel heavy and her throat hurt. She finally stopped a while later, and simply lay there listening to the sounds around her – the ocean's waves crashing on the shore, the sea birds crying as they circled overhead, the croaking of the frogs in the trees – all of them soothing her into a light sleep.

She dreamed.

She was older now, at least in her mid-twenties. Her hair was even longer, reaching toward the middle of her back. She was on a city completely surrounded by ocean, looking down from one of its soaring spires. There was a man beside her, his hands placed on the railing that ran around the entire balcony, the stiff breeze blowing his dark hair back from his forehead. Though she could not see the color of his eyes, she could discern that they were full of kindness, and so even though his clothing was strange to her, she was not afraid of him.

Just as he turned to speak to her, a streak of light fell behind them and hit one of the city's other towers, causing a massive explosion that knocked Teyla off her feet. She landed on the floor of the balcony on her side, a shooting pain searing through her ribs. Momentarily disoriented by the bright flash of the explosion, Teyla scrambled to her feet and looked around wildly for the man. He had been knocked unconscious in the blast, and was now laying near the door that led inside the city, a slight gash opened above his right eyebrow.

Some instinct made Teyla wish to rush to him, but as so often happens in dreams, her legs would not cooperate. Breathing heavily, cursing her leaden muscles, she slowly made her way toward him. When she was a mere foot away, the door suddenly exploded outward, and a hideous Wraith emerged from the darkness. Teyla had only a moment to draw in a breath before the creature batted her away with a flick of its wrist, and she landed on her back in almost the exact spot she had fallen at the beginning of the attack. The pain in her ribs growing so that she could scarcely breathe, she was forced to watch as the Wraith bent over the man, poised to drain his life away.

Teyla screamed then, and the sound of her own shrieking jarred her awake. Her eyes shot open, and her mouth gasped in a mouthful of dirt, disorienting her further as her mind raced to figure out where she was. Finally, her eyes focused enough to see the grave marker near her head, and the pounding in her ears gave way to the sound of songbirds. Sitting up, she spat out the mouthful of dirt, then brushed more dirt from her clothes and hair as she gazed around. She was safely back on her world, surrounded only by the fragrant forest trees and salty ocean air. Still, the events of her dream rattled her, and she found herself slowly getting to her feet and watching for any unusual movements or sounds before making her way back to her village.

As she walked, the dream faded further and further from her mind, until nearly all of it was forgotten. Though it made her all too happy to erase the sight of the Wraith from her thoughts, she was strangely saddened to realize that aside from his dark hair, she could no longer recall what the man had looked like. She tried to concentrate on the memory, as if by thinking hard enough she could drag it from the murky depths of the dream, but it only slipped further away.

She had nearly reached the village when a young boy about her own age slipped through an opening between two trees and hopped into the road.

"Hey, Teyla," he greeted, a smile lighting his tanned features.

"Hello, Kanaan," she replied. She tried to return the smile, but it came out lopsided.

"You sang great yesterday."

"Thank you." Teyla looked around, expecting the small group of boys Kanaan usually played with to come trickling down the hill sides, but he seemed to be alone. "Where is everyone?"

"Home, probably," the boy shrugged. "I wanted to be alone."

She gave him a knowing smile. She and Kanaan both held a few moments' peace in the highest regard, often running off together to lay in the soft grass of a large meadow, staring silently up and the clouds as they let their thoughts sort themselves out. Charin often muttered something about soul mates, but Teyla just rolled her eyes at that. First of all, she did not believe in soul mates. That was an old idea, leftover from the eons before the Wraith rose to be such a formidable enemy. People back then had time to search for soul mates, which was much different from now, when a person was only too lucky to die of something as mundane as old age. And anyway, at thirteen she was convinced that boys were dirty creatures that she wanted nothing to do with.

"Where are you going?" Kanaan asked as he fell into step beside her.

She gave him an exasperated look and sighed, for some reason eager to find an excuse to leave. Any other day, they would be inseparable, spending the day fishing at the stream or swinging from the sturdy rope that hung from the giant bantu tree.

"Home. I need to speak with Charin."

"What about?"

"None of your business, Kanaan," she snapped, and he flinched away from her, stopping in his tracks as she continued on.

"Have I done something, Teyla?" He asked, his voice soft.

The worry she heard made her stop, guilt twisting in her gut. She turned to face him.

"You have not," she assured him. "I apologize, but I am not feeling up to company just now."

"Of course." He nodded in understanding, though Teyla was sure that was far from the truth. Her guess was proven correct when he added, "You are tired from the ceremony last night."

Suddenly feeling as if her bones were three times heavier before, Teyla nodded back. Perhaps one day soon, she would tell him the true reason behind her desire for solitude, but today she was content with letting him believe as he wished.

"Well," he finally said, stooping to grasp a slender stalk of grass and pull it free of the earth, "I will see you later, at the feast."

"You will, indeed."

Kanaan disappeared into the forest once more, and Teyla continued on toward the village, her heart strangely growing heavier with each step. She still felt guilty for turning Kanaan away; a part of her wondered if he might have been able to help her. He was at least a good listener, she was sure of that much. He might have at least sat with her without comment, letting her release her frustrations.

By the time she had reached Charin's home, Teyla felt like crying. She raised her hand to tap on the wooden frame of the door, but Charin was already pulling the flap aside and gently guiding her inside. The old woman led her to the hearth and sat down, setting Teyla on her lap.

"It is all right, child," Charin whispered in her ear, as tears fell from Teyla's eyes and landed on the stone hearth. "Your world has been turned completely upside-down on you."

"I feel so alone," Teyla sobbed into Charin's shoulder. "I know I have you, and Halling..."

"But we are not your family, your blood."

Teyla nodded. "I am sorry. I do not wish to hurt your feelings."

At this, the woman chuckled. "Do not worry, dear. It would take a sight more than that to upset me. Besides, I understand how you feel."

"You do?"

Charin nodded, wiping at Teyla's tear-streaked face with her thumbs. "I was only slightly older than you when my parents were taken. My older brother took care of me and our three siblings until I became old enough to care for myself."

"I never knew you had a brother. What was his name?"

Charin laughed. "Gavan."

Teyla's eyes grew wide as she recognized the name. "Kanaan's grandfather?"

"Very good. Yes, the same Gavan. Which makes Kanaan my great-nephew."

"Does he know...?"

"I am sure he does. Why?"

Teyla visibly deflated as she recalled the way he had looked when she had mentioned going to see Charin. Excitement had sparkled in his dark eyes, and a small smile had crossed his face. Yes, he knew, all right.

And now, she felt twice as bad as before.

"What is troubling you?" Charin asked as she took in Teyla's slumping shoulders.

"I am afraid I have treated Kanaan poorly this afternoon. I was not trying to," she quickly added. "I just...I wished to be alone, to speak with you alone."

"I see."

"Do you think he will forgive me?"

The woman smiled. "I am certain of it. You have been friends almost since his birth."

Teyla let out a breath, relieved, as Charin pulled out two bowls and said, "Now, let us have some supper. It is your favorite – tuttleroot."

As she took her bowl and dug in, Teyla allowed Charin's sense of calm to swirl around and envelop her. By the fourth spoonful, she was convinced that Charin was right.

Everything would work out between her and Kanaan.

* * *

_TBC..._


	3. Chapter 3

Title: First Encounter  
Author: scarletraven79  
Summary: When her father is taken from their village, 13-year-old Teyla Emmagan must assume the role as leader of her people. What secrets will she learn, and what will become of her people when a group of strangers comes to the village looking for help?

* * *

Chapter Three

Twenty years old, with her long russet hair braided down her back, Teyla stood facing her sparring partner. The two hand-carved bantos rods were warm in her hands, worn from so much practice that they were smooth, curving into her palms in just the right way. Showing off a little, she twirled them in her grasp, a small smile on her face.

In contrast, Kanaan stood stock-straight, only his eyes moving as he watched her. His hands gripped his own set of rods, ready to either deflect her attack or strike out with his own. His dark, curly hair barely moved in the soft breezy air around them, his breathing was deep and slow, centering himself.

Teyla rushed forward and struck out with her sticks, but Kanaan easily blocked her. The clack of their rods echoed through the woods as they took turns attacking and defending, ducking and parrying. They went on this way for nearly a half hour, until Kanaan sneaked in an extra swipe with his rod and knocked Teyla's feet out from under her. She landed on her back in the soft dry pine needles covering the forest floor, her rods clattering away from her grasp.

Immediately, Kanaan was standing over her, his dark eyes full of concern.

"Are you alright?" He asked, and she nodded.

"I am fine."

"Please, let me help you up."

He stretched out his hand and she took it. As he pulled her to her feet, she happened to look at his face and gasped in surprise. The features she saw there were not those of her childhood friend, but of a stranger.

Well, mostly a stranger. She recognized the short, dark hair and hazel eyes of the man she had dreamed of years ago, when she had fallen asleep on Raya's grave. The man who had been seconds away from becoming a Wraith's victim. The same small grin was there, as was the playful twinkle in his eye.

"Teyla?" Kanaan's voice said then. She blinked, and the vision disappeared. The man standing there was Kanaan, fully Athosian and looking more concerned by the second.

"I..." she began, but then realized she had no way to explain what had just happened. Was she seeing things? Was she losing her hold on reality?

"I am fine," she finally said, trying a small smile. "I think perhaps I have had enough for today."

"Yes," he agreed, smiling back though he still looked worried. "It is getting near suppertime."

"Shall we spar again tomorrow?" She asked.

Kanaan nodded. "I would very much like that."

"Very well. I will see you at the meal."

They touched foreheads briefly in their version of a hug, and Teyla watched her friend walk down the path toward the settlement. A strange feeling took up residence in her chest, a sense of guilt even though she had done nothing worthy of such an emotion. Already the stranger's face had all but escaped her memory, becoming only a silhouette, a vague shadow. She wondered why she had thought of him during her sparring session, why she had replaced Kanaan's face with his. Most of all, she wondered who he was, where he was from.

With a heavy sigh, she picked up her bantos and headed toward the village.

* * *

Charin's tent was warmest at night after the evening meal. With the flaps closed and the fire burning brightly, it could get so warm that sweat would begin to dot Teyla's forehead and run down to sting her eyes, but she loved it that way. It was comforting, safe.

It was home.

"You are quiet tonight, dear," the old woman said, lovingly patting Teyla's shoulder. "Something is troubling you."

Teyla gave a rueful smile. Charin could always tell what she was thinking. When she was a child she had thought Charin used magic, but now that she was older she understood that her own body language often gave her away.

"Years ago, I asked you to tell me where my sister was buried."

The woman nodded. "I remember."

"While I was there, I fell asleep and I had a dream. There was a man with dark hair and kind eyes there. The Wraith attacked, and one of them appeared and fed on the man."

"As they often do," Charin noted sadly.

Teyla nodded and went on. "And then today, while I was sparring with Kanaan, his face changed to that of the man in my dream. It was only for a moment, but he seemed so real."

"There have been tales of such visions many times in our past, child. What is it you wish to know?"

"Why am I seeing this man? The same man? Who is he?"

Charin smiled. "Oh, Teyla. Only you know the answer to that, though you may not realize it for many years."

"Will I ever meet him? Is he even a real person, or has my mind dreamed him up? And what of the city I saw in the dream? Is it, too, real?" She flopped back against a thick pillow, letting out a frustrated sigh. Charin patted her knee with a chuckle.

"So many questions, but I am afraid I have no answers for you."

Teyla sighed again. "I know. I suppose I just needed to speak my thoughts aloud."

"Well, you are always welcome to do so, here."

They sat in silence for a while, and then Charin asked, "How are things between you and Kanaan? You do not seem to be spending quite as much time together as you once did."

"We are still friends," Teyla assured her. "But now that our responsibilities have changed, so too has our amount of free time. He is so often off on trade expeditions, making friends of our neighbors."

Charin nodded. "You know that at one time, your parents had planned for you two to be joined."

Teyla rolled her eyes, drawing another chuckle from the old woman.

"He is like my brother, Charin. I could never see the two of us bound as spouses." A thought came to her then, and her dark eyes widened. "Does he not feel the same?"

"Fear not, daughter," Charin replied. "He has said as much in our talks. You and he are too alike and know each other too well for a good bonding to take place."

"Then why do I still feel guilt when I think of the strange man?"

The woman who had raised her drew Teyla into a strong hug, kissing the top of her hair.

"I do not know. If you would like, I can brew you some dogroot tea."

Teyla considered the offer, but then decided against it. While in Charin's hand, the strong hallucinogenic tea was a relatively safe potion, but if one accidentally drank too much the side effects were quite painful and sometimes deadly. Besides, if she were honest, she was more than a little afraid to learn the truth of her dream.

"Thank you," she replied, "but I think I will try to figure it out on my own."

"Very well, dear." Charin covered a yawn, then said, "It is late and this old woman needs her rest."

Teyla bowed her head. "Of course. Goodnight, Charin."

She made sure Charin was comfortable before leaving the tent, the cool night air making her shiver after such warmth inside. Pausing a moment to look up at the moons, she sent a prayer to the Ancestors for blessings on Charin and all the Athosians, then went to her own tent and collapsed into her bed, asleep in seconds.

* * *

Dreaming he was flying was not unusual for John. Dreaming he was flying something straight out of a sci-fi movie was, though.

Still, he was a natural at it, knowing just what buttons to touch, how hard to push the yoke either forward or pull back. Feeling very proud of himself, he turned his head to smile at the person seated beside him in the co-pilot's chair.

She was stunning – dark exotic features, long wavy hair – and the way she was smiling at him made his heart flop in his chest. He blinked and suddenly they were both standing in a strange room. She was in front of him, the wooden stick in his hand pressed against her chest, pinning her against the wall. Her eyes searched his nervously, and in the next moment his lips were on hers, kissing her roughly. Passion ran hot through his veins, along with some baser, instinctive urge. Her hands came up to press against his chest, her fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt, and the thought of her nails dragging across his bare skin sped his breathing until he could feel his lungs burning with the effort of trying to control himself. Prying his lips from her mouth, he dropped his head to trail the tip of his tongue down the side of her neck, and she first gasped and then moaned at his touch. Her hands gripped at his shoulders then ran through his dark hair, making him shiver with delight. To show her how much he enjoyed it, he reached down and cupped his hand at the top of her thigh, pulling her body tightly against his. They kissed again, greedily tasting and nipping and twining their tongues. He could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and it only drove his own to beat faster. It also drove whatever animal part of him he felt growing to start wrestling control away from him. Before he could stop himself, he threw her to the ground and then climbed on top of her, his legs pinning her in place.

"John –" she began, but his mouth covered hers before she could say any more. So, she knew his name. Good. Now, if only he could remember hers. He knew her, he was sure of that, but his mind was so overtaken with desire that nothing else could get through. His hands were everywhere – in her hair, on her arms, her bare waist, her hips.

He wanted her so badly.

John's eyes flew open, and he gasped in a breath. Looking around, he saw that he was in his bunk, at the barracks. Afghanistan's desert wind whistled at the open spaces they called windows, dusting everything with a fine layer of sand. From above him, someone cleared their throat and then peeked over the side of the top bunk.

"You okay down there, Shep?" The man asked, a wide grin pasted on his young face. "Thought you were gonna quit breathin' there for a minute."

John used his pillow to swipe at his friend's head. "Shut up, Stone. I was dreamin'."

"Some intense dream," Stone chuckled. "Was she at least pretty?"

This time, the pillow connected with Stone's face.

"I said, shut up."

"Fine," the other man fake-pouted. "Good night."

"Night."

It was quiet for a long while. Stone had just about fallen back to sleep when he heard John call his name. Leaning back over the bunk, he said, "Yeah?"

"She was more than pretty. She was gorgeous."

Stone smiled. "Who was she?"

John shrugged. "Dunno. But I really hope I find out."

"Me too, buddy."

Stone's head disappeared again, and John lay on his side, staring out the window at the moon high in the sky. The woman's face was fading from his mind, leaving an empty feeling behind. He closed his hazel eyes, and if he concentrated very hard, he could still smell the honey-floral scent of her hair and skin, but it was faint. Clutching the pillow to his chest to try and ease the ache he had started to feel, he began to drift back toward sleep, praying that he would indeed find her, someday.

* * *

_TBC..._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Years passed, and soon Teyla had grown both into an adult and into her role as leader of the Athosians. She had learned much in the intervening years, about the people she called her own and life in general, as well as about herself. She found that empathy came easily to her while self-control did not, and that she could not cook certain things very well although fishing and hunting were like second nature.

Often, she found herself asking what her father would have done and then following whatever the answer might be, and more often than not it worked out well.

The Wraith had continued to attack their planet, though not as often as in the past. Fortunately, very few Athosians had been either taken or killed, and once the aftermath had been cleared away, life quickly resumed where it had left off.

Charin and Halling had remained close to Teyla's heart, and she sought their advice or comfort perhaps even more these days. They were always glad to spend time with her, opening their homes to her any time she needed them. In thanks, she would often bring a small gift she had purchased on trading journeys, never leaving out Halling's son, Jinto. He had recently lost his own mother, and so Teyla tried to spend as much free time as she could with him. Under her and Halling's care, he seemed to growing into a respectable young man, though his curiosity often got the better of him. That was to be expected however, as all young boys loved adventure and exploring more than anything.

As Teyla and Halling were talking, Jinto's best friend, Wex, ducked into Halling's tent.

"Hello, Halling," he greeted, and the tall man smiled warmly. "Hello."

"Hello, Teyla."

She smiled as well. "Good morning, Wex. How is your mother?"

"She is well. The baby is giving her trouble, but Charin gave her a tonic to help him sleep."

"Hey, Wex," Jinto said as he returned from getting water at the stream. He set the bucket down at his father's feet, then wiped his hands on his pants. "You wanna go play?"

Wex nodded, and Jinto looked expectantly up at Halling. "Father? May I go?"

Halling paused just long enough to make his son think he would refuse.

"Yes, you may," he finally replied, and Teyla stifled a giggle behind her hand. "But stay out of the forest. The sun has not yet risen; it is still quite dark."

Jinto nodded, fully aware of his father's rules. "Thank you!" He called as he and Wex darted back outside together.

Now, Teyla did laugh, as did Halling.

"He reminds me of myself at his age," he said, still grinning.

"What do you mean?" Teyla replied. "I am not sure you have ever grown past 'his age'."

They chuckled again, and then Halling's gaze turned serious.

"Teyla, I wish to thank you for all that you do with Jinto. I was so worried for him after his mother was taken by the Wraith. I am so glad that he has you to look to."

"I am happy to do it. Jinto is a wonderful boy – very bright and funny – and he has a very gentle heart." She smiled softly. "Not unlike his father, actually."

"Still, you are a very busy woman most days. That you can find time to guide a young boy is a great blessing."

Teyla shrugged. "I see it as preparing for the future. The Wraith have not come to us in a few years, but one day – soon, I fear – they will return. If I can teach the young men in our village to behave with honor and courage, the next time the Wraith come and find great resistance they might think harder about returning."

"You are a wise woman. Not unlike your mother."

"That is kind of you," she replied graciously. "Shall we go and see if there are any leftovers at the main tent?"

Halling nodded. "I could use a small morsel to tide me over."

They walked together to the main tent, where the people came together once a week to take their evening meal. The rest of the week, each family prepared their own suppers, but the last night of the week was set aside as special, the Athosian version of a Sunday dinner. Every woman who could cook would come and help prepare the meal, and then everyone would meet and join in on enjoying the food. Afterward, the men worked together to clear the tables, and early the next morning a strong tea was served along with any food left over from the meal.

Two mugs of tea later, Halling suddenly frowned and stood up. Going to the front of the tent, he peered through the flaps, staring hard into the distance though it was still too dark to see much of anything.

"What is it?" She asked him, setting her drink back on the table.

"I must go and find Jinto," he merely replied, just before he rushed from the tent. Teyla stood to follow him, but Kanaan, who had grown quite tall and strong, stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"You should remain here, where you are protected," he told her.

"Halling might need my help," she argued. "I should go with him."

Kanaan shook his dark head emphatically. "We do not know what the trouble is out there. There could be an attack."

"And if that is the case, then Halling truly will need me."

"But if it is an attack, then our enemy might be waiting for you to go outside, into the open."

She fell silent, conceding his point, and allowed him to gently press her back down in her seat.

"I do not sense Wraith," he continued, "but we should still be cautious."

A half-hour went by, and the nervous feeling that had settled into Teyla's stomach had uncurled enough to allow her to return to enjoying the company of the others in the tent. They sat at the table, trading stories and jokes interspersed with bouts of laughter. More than once, Teyla found herself covering her mouth with her hand to keep from giggling too loudly. There were children still sleeping in the tents surrounding them, and she was certain that their parents would not appreciate them being awakened so early.

"It is Halling," her friend's voice called from outside. "I bring men from away."

"Enter," Teyla responded, her brow creased in curiosity.

The tent's flaps were pulled aside as Halling stepped inside. He was followed by three strangers dressed in black clothing, with objects that she had never seen before strapped onto their heads. All that was forgotten, however, when she saw the weapons that hung from their vests. She glared at Halling in surprise, and he bowed apologetically at her.

"These men wish to trade," he said.

"Ah, it's, uh," one of the newcomers stammered, simultaneously pulling the goggles off his head and trying unsuccessfully to fix his dark hair as he smiled at Teyla, "it's nice to meet you."

Though she was certain she had never met him before, this man seemed somehow familiar to her. "I am Teyla Emmagan, daughter of Turghan," she replied.

The oldest of the three, a man with light brown hair cropped close to his head and sharp blue eyes that unnerved her in a way that not even the fiercest Wraith could, spoke next. "Colonel Marshall Sumner, Major Sheppard, Lieutenant Ford. We have very few specific needs."

Teyla ignored both his clipped introduction and overt appraisal of her as she said, "We do not trade with strangers."

"Is that a fact?" Sumner asked, though the look in his eyes told that he had guessed at her reaction long ago, possibly even before they had entered the tent.

"Well, then," Sheppard put in, the wheels in his mind turning as she watched, "we'll just, uh, we'll have to get to know each other. Me, um, I like Ferris Wheels and college football; anything that goes more than two hundred miles per hour."

Ford, a dark-skinned man not much younger than Kanaan, leaned toward Sheppard and spoke quietly. "Sir, that's not going to mean anything to them."

Still smiling at Teyla, Sheppard clenched his teeth and murmured his reply. "Feel free to speak up. I'm just trying to break the ice, here."

Colonel Sumner made a soft comment to Sheppard that Teyla could not hear, but she could see from the look on the younger man's face that he did not like it. In fact, she was getting the impression that the Major thoroughly disliked the Colonel altogether, though she was certain that if pressed Sheppard would back his superior, simply because it was expected of him.

Sensing that her chances of negotiating a trade were slipping quickly through her fingers, Teyla said, "Each morning before dawn, our people drink a stout tea to brace us for the coming day. Will you join us?"

Major Sheppard took a step toward her, smiling. "I love a good cup of tea. Now there's another thing you know about me." He took a moment to smile at Sumner before turning back to Teyla. "See? We're practically friends already!"

Teyla studied his ready smile, trying to sense his veracity. He seemed open enough, friendly and accommodating, but there were depths to his hazel eyes that belied a lifetime of pain and regret. Hurt and loss made themselves plain, though his humor and undying sense of hope tried to push them from sight.

His face was thin and quite handsome, but again the tiny scar on the bridge of his nose – so miniscule that almost no one would have seen it – told her that he was not afraid to take risks, and that he had paid for that trait at least once before. The beginning of a five-o-clock shadow was making itself known on his defined jaw line, and he reached up and brushed his thumb across his itchy cheek in response.

Deciding that he was worth trusting, Teyla smiled at him in return as he walked toward the table to sit down.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

The strangers had gone from the tent, resting around the fire for a few hours before daylight came full and bright to Athos. Now alone save for Kanaan, Teyla sank down onto the bench and rested her elbows on the table. She hoped that what Major Sheppard had said was true, that they were peaceful and willing to trade. Her people were warm and generous, but they were also extremely wary of strangers. She supposed that the blame for their skittish nature could be laid at the Wraith's doorstep, since they were not opposed to turning ordinary people into their servants, who then in turn searched the galaxy for others to enslave, or worse, to use as food for their masters.

"We should not trade with these men," Kanaan said quietly, setting down his empty mug.

Teyla gazed at him, her curiosity well-written in her eyes. "Why do you say so?"

"They are soldiers. Their weapons are more powerful than anything we possess. They could decide to use them on us and destroy us all."

"Or," Teyla replied, "they could use them to protect us from the Wraith. Besides," she argued further, "I do not believe they would do such a thing. They seem to genuinely want our friendship."

Kanaan's dark eyes clouded even further. "You speak as if you have already made a decision."

Her eyes flashed in return. "I have not, but even so, it _is_ my decision to make."

He bowed his head in apology, running a hand through his black curls. "I meant no offense, Teyla. I only wished to voice my reservations."

"Very well," the young leader replied, her wrinkled brow smoothing instantly as she laid a comforting hand on her clansman's shoulder. "Your concerns have been noted."

"Thank you."

Just then, Halling returned and waited for Teyla to address him.

"Are our guests settled in?"

He nodded. "They are. Major Sheppard wished to convey his thanks for our hospitality. He said he owed you a 'really great gift'."

Teyla could not hide the pleased smile that found its way to her lips.

"Do you trust them?" She asked, and he nodded once again.

"I believe them when they say they are looking for trade. But the Colonel seems to be hiding something."

"Such as?"

"I do not know. Perhaps there is a specific object they are looking for, though they have not mentioned anything just yet."

Teyla nodded, remembering her previous impression of the man. "But you do not believe they would harm us?"

"Not at all."

"Well," Teyla replied, stifling a yawn with her hand, "we shall just have to see what the daylight brings. I will not keep you any longer. Jinto will be waiting for you to return."

"He will, though I am fairly certain that the excitement of the strangers' arrival has since worn him out."

Flashing him a knowing smile, Teyla shook her head. "I would not be so sure." She inclined her head toward the door of the tent, which was now tied back so that they could both see outside. Jinto stood by the bonfire, tugging on the Major's arm and asking him an endless stream of questions. To his credit, Sheppard merely deflected those questions he felt uncomfortable answering, and gave short replies to the rest. Teyla could see that he was tired; his eyes were ringed by dark circles and he had yawned twice in the last minute alone, and she decided that he deserved to be rescued from Jinto's inquisition.

Stepping forward, Teyla rested her hand on Jinto's shoulder. "I believe that your father would like you to go and rest for a while, Jinto."

When he realized that a woman had joined his company, Sheppard courteously jumped to his feet. He flashed her an apologetic grin that she did not see, as Jinto was currently pouting up at her and making a sound that very closely resembled the whine Sheppard had often used when his mother had refused to let him stay up late.

"Just a little while longer?" Jinto was pleading, but Teyla shook her head.

"No, Jinto. Now, go on."

As he scuffed off to his tent, Sheppard gave him a little wave. "He's a good kid," he said to Teyla.

"Yes, he is."

"He really wasn't being a bother. Just curious. Kinda like me when I was young."

She grinned at the idea of this man as a child, his perpetually-messy hair even more out of control than now.

"I get the feeling that not many of your people trust us," he said then, sitting back down against the log in front of the fire. She sat atop the log beside him, picking up a loose stick and poking at the embers.

"My people are proud, but wary. The Wraith have done much to damage our trust of strangers."

"Who are these Wraith you keep mentioning?"

"You do not know the Wraith?" Sheppard shook his head, so she explained, "They are an enemy far more dangerous than any you can imagine. They come to our world, and others we visit through the Ring, devastating our numbers throughout the galaxy."

"Sound like great neighbors," Sheppard muttered.

Teyla stared at him in confusion, but let the comment pass without reply.

"There are some of us who doubt your intentions," she finally acknowledged. "They believe that you may change your mind about an alliance and instead use your weapons against us."

Sheppard seemed appropriately horrified by her statement. "What? No, never!"

"I believe you are honest in your search for trading partners. I simply thought it wise to inform you of this in case a situation should arise."

"But...aren't you in charge here?" He asked. "Couldn't you just, you know...tell 'em to knock it off?"

She smiled at that. "I am leader of this people, yes. But I would never seek to suppress someone's right to speak their mind, however much I disagree with them. On the other hand, they will ultimately trust my judgment, so this entire conversation is most likely pointless."

"Not entirely," he replied with a shake of his head. "It's always good to know if there are problems. Still, I doubt anything will happen between our people. We don't usually go looking for a fight, especially among friends."

"Nor do we."

They fell silent for a while, watching the flames of the fire dance in the air. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, "So. Halling...what's his story?"

"He is my father's closest friend, and now mine, as well."

"Oh. I haven't gotten to meet your father, yet."

"He was taken by the Wraith when I was young," she told him. "He has likely been dead many years."

Sheppard's eyes slid closed then, and he softly said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"It is all right," she assured him. "I was raised by a woman named Charin, and Halling became something of a father-figure to me. When his wife was culled last year, I decided to repay the favor and help with Jinto."

"Seems like you're doing a good job with him."

She blushed, hoping that the fire's orange light hid it from view. "Thank you. I noticed that you are good with children as well."

He shrugged. "Probably because I remember what it was like to be them. Kids need to feel safe, protected. As long as you're not cruel to them, you're good."

"Somehow, I cannot imagine you being cruel to anyone."

"Me either."

The look in his eyes as he answered her startled Teyla. It was as if he were remembering some memory that was far from pleasant; a scar, one he had imagined healed long ago, seemed to be ripping open right in front of her, and she felt only guilt at causing such pain in him.

"In any case," she said, changing the subject, "both Halling and Jinto seem to have taken a liking to you. More so than the other two that accompanied you here."

"Well, Colonel Sumner's not exactly the smiling, happy type. All business, you know." She nodded at his apt description of the Marine. "And Ford's just a kid himself. Has yet to figure out where he fits in."

"You said that you were from the city of the Ancestors? What you call Atlantis?" She asked, and he nodded. "The city has been lost to us for many centuries."

"That's because it's under water. Not too easy to get there from here, I'd reckon."

She smiled at his easy sense of humor. "Yes, I suppose that would be...difficult."

Sheppard yawned yet again, and Teyla took that as her signal to get up. Ever mindful of good manners, he stood along with her.

"Perhaps you should rest for a while," she suggested. "It has been a most eventful night."

"I'm fine. 'Sides," he replied with a sly grin, "I caught a few winks while Jinto was talking."

Hiding a smile of her own, Teyla nodded. "Very well. There are a few things I must attend to."

As she bid him goodbye for now, a memory stirred at the back of her mind, a glimpse of dark clothing and shiny dark hair. She tried to recall where it had come from, but soon it slipped back beneath the surface.

Shaking her head, Teyla walked away from the fire.

* * *

_TBC..._


End file.
